For the crusty, cigar-chomping crowd of old-school reporters—Red Smith, Dan Parker, Dick Young, Arthur Daley, and Jimmy Cannon—Ali was a national disgrace, the scourge of American sports. Cannon could not hide his disgust for Ali. He wrote, “I pity Clay and abhor what he represents.” The Black Muslims, he insisted, were “exploiting Clay” the same way that the “Communists used famous people” during the Great Depression. Now that Ali had become champion, boxing, Cannon feared, had reached its nadir. “The fight racket, since its rotten beginnings, has been the red light district of sports. But,” he lamented, “this is the first time it has been turned into an instrument of mass hate.”2
At a time when minorities held half of the major division boxing titles, it appeared that black and brown men dominated the entire sport. The days when boxing made “white men rich and black men cripples” were long gone. White writers and white fans lamented the loss of an era. Whites, they said, never got a shot at the heavyweight title anymore. It seemed that the black man had taken over everything: the cities, the streets, the old neighborhoods, even sports. More blacks could be seen on television playing baseball, basketball, and football. And now the black man had taken over boxing too. “Now that the equal opportunity movement has brought such an improvement to the lot of the Negro,” Dan Parker asked, “when are the white heavyweights going to start picketing the weighing-in scales at boxing commission offices for the same deal[?]”3
The moment Ali defeated Liston, sportswriters and politicians revived their campaign to abolish boxing. In the greatest uproar since the death of Benny Paret, moralists demanded an investigation into the sport, questioning the legitimacy of Ali’s victory. “The odors of the Clay-Liston thing continue to assail the nostrils,” Arthur Daley wrote. Weeks after the match, Daley and other writers were still stunned that Liston had lost. Ali had looked unimpressive during his training camp, Daley argued, but overnight “became transformed into a clever” fighter. And Liston, usually an indomitable force, was unrecognizable sitting on his stool by the end of the sixth round.4
Conspiracy theorists suspected that Ali had won the match for only one reason: the fight was fixed. They said that Ali had wanted to quit the fight, but his corner would not let him. They said that Liston wanted to continue, but his corner would not let him, either. That was why Liston, considered the toughest man in the game, complained that his injured shoulder prevented him from continuing. And of course, Sonny had ties to organized crime. But the most damning evidence, critics claimed, was that before the fight Ali had signed a contract with Liston’s promotional agency for fifty thousand dollars, guaranteeing International Promotions the right to name the new champion’s first opponent in a title defense. Ed Lassman, president of the World Boxing Association (WBA), insisted that the agreement violated their rules on return bouts, despite knowing all about the arrangement before the match. Since Liston was president of International Promotions, Lassman argued, he stood to benefit financially from a rematch with Ali, even though boxers often held a stake in promotional agencies.5
There was no real evidence of a betting conspiracy involving Liston or Ali. Bookmakers insisted that the “smart money” was bet on Liston, and the gambling odds against Ali actually increased from 7–1 to 8–1 on the day of the match. If the fight was fixed for Ali to win, why did he beg Dundee to end the fight? If the fight was fixed for Liston to lose, why did he try to blind Ali? Every conspiracy theory about the fight crumbles under the weight of inconsistencies.
Despite the lack of any evidence against the champ, Lassman announced that the WBA would vacate Ali’s title because his behavior as champion was “detrimental to the boxing world.” Joining the Black Muslims, Lassman contended, made Ali “a very poor example for the youth of the world.” The WBA’s commissioner, Abe Greene, echoed his sentiment. “Clay should be given the chance to decide whether he wants to be a religious crusader or the heavyweight champion,” he said.6
None of the most influential state athletic commissions supported the WBA’s endorsement. And, after a few days of hearings in front of the Senate Subcommittee on Antitrust and Monopoly, there was still no evidence that Ali or Liston had done anything illegal. The subcommittee recommended passing a bill that would create a federal boxing czar who would oversee the sport, but the proposal never materialized. Facing strong opposition, Lassman ended his campaign against the champ. Still, Arthur Daley maintained that the WBA’s abortive efforts were inconsequential. “Boxing,” he wrote, “is beyond redemption. It should be abolished.”7